


winded

by sweggscellent



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, Foot Jobs, M/M, Tickling, ok, these boys are just being gay ok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-21
Updated: 2015-08-21
Packaged: 2018-04-16 10:33:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4622037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweggscellent/pseuds/sweggscellent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Tickling turns you on.” Jean whispers it like it’s some sort of incredible revelation, his own little Archimedes moment. Probably better.<br/>Marco closes his eyes and drops his head to Jean’s collarbone, nuzzling. “I mean, yeah. Kind of. Mostly just when I’m tickling you, really."</p>
            </blockquote>





	winded

**Author's Note:**

> hey hey heyyyy been a while  
> yep anyway i started this like over a year ago and yeah gettin back into the swing of things  
> i have a memeblr i mean a [tumblr](trashcollect.tumblr.com)

Marco loves the way Jean laughs.

It’s loud and bright and giggly, and it gives Marco a million butterflies and makes his cheeks and insides warm.

It is on a Wednesday evening during an intense game of Diddy Kong Racing with Jean’s legs tossed in his lap that Marco decides he wants to hear that bright laughter. He’s getting bored, anyway, and Jean’s so into the game that he doesn’t seem to notice when Marco sets his controller down, his hands creeping dangerously close to the sensitive spot on the inside of Jean’s knee.

Jean does, however, notice _very_ quickly when that hand’s fingers curl around that spot deviously, making the blonde’s leg jerk wildly as he shrieks, the controller flying out of his hand and clattering across the floor as Diddy goes veering off the road.

Marco’s own hands are quickly back in his lap, looking innocent, and Jean stares open-mouthed at the screen before turning his accusing gaze to Marco. Marco raises his own eyebrows placatingly, and before he can get a word out, Jean’s foot is in his side. The brunette chokes out a laugh and grabs Jean’s ankle, dragging the fingers of his free hand lightly up the sole, and Jean squeaks out a giggle before forcefully yanking himself from Marco’s grip to crawl away and curl pathetically on the floor.

Marco laughs more before crawling over to his pitiful boyfriend, curling around him and running an apologetic hand through his hair. “Babe.”

Jean huffs a bit and curls in tighter on himself.

“ _Babe,_ ” Marco tries again. “C’mon.”

Eventually, Jean loosens up a bit, and Marco finishes the job for him, unfolding him and hauling him into his lap. Jean pouts and pushes his head under Marco’s chin, picking at a stray thread on the brunette’s shirt. He’s blushing.

“You made me lose,” Jean mumbles, and the pout is almost tangible in his voice. Marco has to hold back more laughter.

“Me? No. You just suck at video games,” Marco says, raising his eyebrows. “How dare you accuse me of such a thing.”

“I don’t suck at video games!” Jean exclaims, shooting up from Marco’s lap to look him straight in the eye. Marco’s eyebrows furrow and he pulls a sympathetic expression, bringing his hands up to softly cup Jean’s face and stroke his thumbs over his cheekbones.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to have to be the one to break the news, but... yes, Jean Kirschtein. _You_ suck at video games.”

Jean sputters. “No! You did th-- you _know_ what you did, you -- you cheated!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Marco’s schooling his expression into something less amused -- trying to, at least -- because Jean can’t even say the word _tickled_. He’s red-faced and ruffled, and Marco’s biting his lip on a stupid, foolish grin. He’s so cute.

“You fucking-- you _cheated_ , you _distracted_ me and you-- you know! You asshole!”

“Jean, I _don’t_ know. I was just playing the game.”

“You do know what you did!”

Marco lets his lip slide from his teeth and breaks into a toothy grin. “Oh. I think I remember now. Was it… this?” he asks before tackling Jean to the floor, sliding his hands up his shirt to tickle him relentlessly, and Jean’s suddenly defenseless, snorting and crying out between huffs of laughter. He turns, attempting to claw his way across the floor and out of the reach of his boyfriend, but Marco catches his legs and drags him back, spooning up behind Jean and tossing a strong leg over the blonde’s to keep him still while he attacks his tummy with aggressive tickles.

Jean’s laughing helplessly, half-pliant in Marco’s grip because while he can hold his own, Marco can too, along with all of Jean’s as well, and he usually knows when to stop. He snorts and pushes his hips back into Marco’s in a completely innocent motion to try and get some leverage to pull away, smacking half-heartedly at the brunette’s hands, and that’s when he feels it.

They both seem to freeze at the same time, and Jean catches his breath for a moment before tentatively turning himself in Marco’s arms to meet his eyes.

Marco’s blushing, but his face remains deceptively calm. Jean smiles.

“Oh my god.” He sounds incredulous, even to himself.

Marco continues to stare.

“Tickling turns you on.” Jean whispers it like it’s some sort of incredible revelation, his own little Archimedes moment. Probably better.

Marco closes his eyes and drops his head to Jean’s collarbone, nuzzling. “I mean, yeah. Kind of. Mostly just when I’m tickling you, really.” He makes his point by poking a finger into Jean’s side, eliciting a squeak, and he smirks.

Jean snorts out a soft laugh, and it’s disbelieving but fond. He tilts his face down to nudge his nose into Marco’s hair.

“Are you serious?”

“Well. Yeah. I mean. You know.” Marco doesn’t sound particularly bashful, just… at a loss for words. He nips playfully at the skin of Jean’s neck before bringing his head back up to look him in the face.

“Huh,” is all Jean says before nodding to himself and cupping Marco’s face to bring him in for a kiss. It’s sweet, especially considering the information he’s just learned, until Jean brings a thigh between Marco’s to rub against the erection he’d accidentally grinded against earlier, the one he’d accidentally _elicited_ , and Marco gasps quietly.

Jean smirks against Marco’s mouth, glad to be able to distract Marco from tickling him any further, and presses a little harder against his boyfriend’s crotch. Marco hums against him and moves a hand to clutch tightly at Jean’s hip.

“‘M not done with you,” Marco finally murmurs, just when he’s beginning to grind shamelessly against Jean’s leg. Jean bristles a bit and pulls back, a bit disheveled and weirdly turned on by the glint in Marco’s eyes.

“ _Oh_?” Jean says suggestively, waggling his brows a bit, trying to twist Marco’s words around to favor himself because seriously, if Marco starts tickling him _again_ \--

And then Marco is pressing Jean down flat on the floor and slinking down his body, inching his shirt up with a promising little smile, and holy _shit_ that’s hot. Jean scrubs his hands down his face, huffing, and when Marco starts inching his shirt up, Jean shifts himself up on his elbows to watch.

“Whatcha doin’ down there, Bodt?” he asks, biting his lip on a smile.

“Oh, nothing,” Marco smirks, resting his head against Jean’s thigh as he goes to undo the button on his pants. He slides a firm palm salaciously over the bulge evident between his boyfriend’s legs and Jean groans softly, eyes sliding shut. “Just showing my boyfriend a good time.”

“Yeah?” Jean mutters, voice growing ragged, and his head falls back forward as he watches Marco slide his jeans down with a lecherous grin.

“Yeah,” Marco replies, sounding just as wrecked as Jean. Then his mouth is on Jean’s stomach, wet and warm, and he’s blowing a _fucking raspberry_ and Jean yelps, curling forward violently and choking out a laugh. Marco pulls away before he can get hit, practically crying as he dissolves in a fit of raucous laughter.

“I hate you, you fucking _asshole_ ,” Jean cries, but he’s holding back his own laughter and there’s no venom to the words.

“No you don’t!” Marco snorts through his laughter. “And you love my mouth,” he continues once he’s calmed down, crawling back to his half-naked boyfriend and settling over him. “And all the things I can do with it.”

“Mm,” Jean hums, pretending to contemplate that. “I _guess_ your mouth is okay. You should use it to kiss me. Right now.”

“Okay,” Marco whispers, and he leans down, brushing his lips against Jean’s. Jean smiles and wraps his arms around Marco’s shoulders, letting his legs fall further open against Marco’s waist, and the taller boy takes that invitation and returns his hand to Jean’s crotch, rubbing firmly.

Jean groans, bringing a hand up and carding it through Marco’s hair, biting gently down on the older boy’s lower lip. Marco groans in his throat and pulls away, pupils blown as he gazes down at his boyfriend.

“Lube,” is all Jean says, and Marco nods dazedly, shuffling over to the couch to get the travel-size bottle they keep between the cushions there. Jean follows him, tugging at the brunet’s shirt once he’s fished the bottle out, and Marco takes the initiative, settling back on the floor with his back against the couch and letting Jean situate himself in his lap.

As Marco slicks a couple of his fingers, Jean fidgets and shuffles until his boxer-briefs are down far enough so that Marco can tease the tip of one finger against his hole. He kisses idly at whatever skin he can get at, limited by the fact that Jean’s shirt is still on, but Jean is responding brilliantly, twitching and huffing in his lap.

Finally, Marco slips his middle finger inside Jean and Jean sighs like he’s been dying for it, eyes sliding closed as his head tips back.

“Good?” Marco whispers, watching the blond reverently. He loves getting Jean worked up like this.

“Mhm,” Jean hums, sounding a bit disoriented. He pushes back against Marco’s hand and Marco lets him, watching as his boyfriend smiles at the feeling.

Marco simply lets Jean ride his finger for a bit, eyes flitting over his pleasure-wracked face and down to where his cock is bobbing between his legs and back up. He strokes leisurely at Jean’s perineum with his thumb and watches as he twitches prettily, cheeks red, lips redder.

“Another, doll?” the brunet asks, sliding his finger pointedly deeper.

“Yeah,” Jean says, eyes opening to gaze down lovingly at Marco.

Marco removes his hand to drizzle more lube over his fingers, warming it back up before he slides his middle and ring fingers in together, and he realizes as Jean moans shamelessly that he could simply do this all day. Video game music drones on around them as the CONTINUE? screen flashes, forgotten, on the TV, and his own dick is starting to ache, but absolutely nothing can beat the way Jean’s eyelashes flutter or the mindless, pleased sounds that are coming from his throat.

After many long moments of fucking Jean with his fingers and searching for his prostate, Marco finally finds it, and Jean whines high in his throat, eyebrows furrowing.

“There?” Marco encourages, nuzzling Jean’s neck, dragging his teeth across the skin.

“Yeah, _fuck_ , c’mon,” Jean urges, pushing back against Marco’s fingers.

“You sure?” the brunet teases, and Jean opens hazy eyes to glare down at his boyfriend before threading his fingers through thick hair and tugging hard. Marco’s eyelids flutter and he groans, hips stuttering up involuntarily.

“I’m sure.”

Marco thrusts roughly then, fucking into Jean and hitting his prostate nearly ever time until Jean is a begging, incoherent mess on his lap. Marco growls filthy praises into Jean’s ear, punctuated with the occasional nip to his earlobe, until Jean’s own rhythm of pushing back onto Marco’s hand begins to stutter.

“‘M gonna fuckin’-- _fuck_ ,” Jean gasps, leaving the sentence unfinished.

“C’mon, babe, I’ve got you,” Marco murmurs against feverish skin, dizzy with how turned on he is. “Come for me, c’mon.”

And then he is, crying out brokenly as he jizzes across the front of Marco’s shirt, thighs tensing around his boyfriend’s hips as his hand tightens in his hair. Marco strokes his fingers inside of him, carrying the blond through it, until Jean relaxes and sighs, slumping against him.

“Good?” Marco whispers, pulling his fingers out gently.

“Mhm, yeah,” Jean mutters lazily, “Yep. Great, good. Awesome. Perfect.” He leans back to kiss the brunet.

Before Marco can begin to move his mouth against Jean’s, his boyfriend is sliding backwards and off his lap to put a socked foot gently against the apex of Marco’s thighs.

“Whatcha doin’ down there?” Marco asks curiously.

“Oh, you know,” Jean replies, smirking as he presses his foot against Marco’s still-clothed cock, “Just repayin’ my boyfriend for showing me a good time.”

Marco’s head falls back against the couch as Jean massages the ball of his foot into his erection. “Not gonna take much,” he huffs, and Jean’s smirk grows wider, more feral.

“Good,” he rasps, “I wanna see you fall apart.”

Marco doesn’t lie; it only takes a few good presses and some firm stroking of Jean’s foot before he’s reaching down and holding Jean’s ankle with a tight grip as he grinds against his foot, coming with a breathy moan.

After a few moments of coming down, Marco shifts and looks down at himself, making a disgusted noise. “I’m all covered in splooge.”

Jean snorts. “Just the way I like you.”

Marco laughs and shoves his foot playfully into Jean’s stomach. “Shut up.”

“You even came in your pants!”

“Jean!”

And that’s the last word either of them get out before Marco is lunging forward and pinning his boyfriend to the floor, tickling him until neither of them can breathe.


End file.
